


Coarse

by ohgodmyeyes



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Awkwardness, Bathing, F/M, Forbidden Love, Love, Melancholy, Movie: Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Romance, Staring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23608000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgodmyeyes/pseuds/ohgodmyeyes
Summary: Anakin interrupts Padmé in the bath because he believes she is in danger.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	Coarse

“Senator!”

“Anakin!”

The young Padawan had run unflinchingly— lightsaber ablaze— into Senator Amidala’s most private facilities. They were together inside of her expansive residence on Naboo; virtually alone, at least for now. Although all had seemed well only minutes ago, Anakin Skywalker had been certain he’d just sensed a drastic shift in the energy of the young woman whose safety he was to be ensuring. It had caused him alarm; so much so that he hadn’t thought twice before bursting into the room in which she was currently washing. 

She was sitting surrounded by exquisitely-scented foam in a very large, very ornate washbasin. She’d been submerged to about mid-chest when her overzealous young guard had burst in brandishing his weapon; at the sight of him, she had ducked so that she was concealed right up to her neck.

He stopped in his tracks. 

“I— I’m sorry—! I thought I felt—!”

_”I’m bathing, Anakin!”_

“I can see that!” He certainly could. “But I was concerned for your safety, and—”

“Do I _look_ as if I’m in any danger?”

“Well, you— you could drown!” Although the Senator had previously alluded to being an adept swimmer, her bath _was_ awfully deep.

Anakin’s eyes scanned the room, then; he almost hoped to find an abnormality, if only to justify his sudden appearance in her space. Aside from the adrenaline coursing through him at the danger he thought he’d perceived, he felt a mystifying combination of intense embarrassment and unfettered excitement.

“...Drown?” asked Padmé, with no intonation in particular.

“Yes! And— look!” He gestured with his lightsaber toward a small jar set near the washbasin; it was, perhaps, the only thing in the room which looked as though it did not belong. Anakin, in fact, recognized it as being from the kitchen. “Some careless servant left food in here! The moisture from your bath could seep in and make it rot— and then you could get sick!” As he retracted his blade and began to approach, “Let me remove it for you, Senator.”

Anakin felt relieved, at that point, to have at least conjured a somewhat-believable explanation for his rushing into Padmé’s bath the way he had. 

He was still certain he’d felt _something_ , but...

His thoughts were interrupted very suddenly by the sound of a divine laugh.

“Oh, _Ani!”_ She invoked his childhood nickname, perhaps without meaning to. Right then, it seemed to very much suit him.

The apparently-misplaced jar was close to where Padmé was sitting in the water, on a little table beside the basin itself. Since Anakin had already started to make his way over to it, he’d actually been in the process of bending down to grasp it by the time the sound of her voice exclaiming his name caused him to pause.

He looked at her— or, what he could see of her, anyway. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make it infinitely more difficult for him to speak intelligibly in her presence than if she’d been dressed. 

Mere inches away from the tub, all he could do was stop and stare.

Padmé was fascinated by the way Anakin had matured over the years; physically, and in other ways, too. He was both captivating and overwhelming: In spite of her mystifying and irrepressible interest in him, she’d found since meeting him again that he had a distinct tendency to make her feel uneasy with the intensity of his attention.

She shook off her disquiet, presently; the young man seemed genuine in both his bewilderment, and his embarrassment. The Senator didn’t wish to cause her overeager protector any more indignity than he’d already appeared to have caused himself.

“It’s alright, Anakin,” she said calmly. “This _is_ food, but it’s supposed to be here— it’s sugar.”

“...Sugar?” The soon-to-be Jedi looked at his charge quizzically. Was she not worried about it coming into contact with the water; getting ruined? Sugar was expensive in some places, and besides that, it was for baking; tea. Who kept sugar in the lavatory?

“Yes,” confirmed Padmé, prompting him to glance back toward the jar. When he did, she added with some hesitation, “...It’s not for eating, though.”

As he refocused his gaze on what he could see of her from her position in the basin, Anakin told her with utmost innocuousness, “I don’t understand.” 

They looked at one another for several long moments at that. Anakin thought his surge of adrenaline would have subsided by now, but it hadn’t— his heart was still beating like a hammer, and it took him an inexplicably enormous amount of effort to control his respiration. 

Padmé, for her part, felt both exposed and somewhat annoyed— however, she was also a very tolerant person, and she did not dislike Anakin by any means.

After another significant pause, she ventured to explain, “It’s for my skin.”

“Skin?”

“It... well, using sugar makes it feel softer— less coarse.” She immediately regretted her wording; however, it was too late to change what she’d said.

“...Less coarse?” There was scarcely any more Anakin could do except for repeat the Senator’s words, and swallow nervously at the persistent lump which seemed to have formed very suddenly in his throat. 

“Yes,” confirmed Padmé. 

After that, they stared for a while longer. Neither of them seemed to know quite what to say, or do. Anakin had ceased reaching for the jar of sugar, but he hadn’t moved away from the basin. Padmé was still immersed up to her neck in the soapy water; however, the foam was beginning to dissolve.

Finally, “...Did you really come running in here like that over a jar, Anakin?” Certainly that couldn’t have been it... could it have?

With his attention being called to the apparent error he had made, his embarrassment overtook his adrenaline, at least momentarily. His face reddened in spite of his best effort, and he stammered as he answered, “No— no, not... exactly.”

It was Padmé’s turn to offer her own curious expression this time as she asked, “Then what was it?”

Anakin wasn’t sure quite how to articulate his reason for intruding; however, he tried anyhow. “There was a change,” he told her. “In the room’s energy— _your_ energy. I thought...” 

He trailed off; she tilted her head, as if to prompt him to continue.

“...I thought something was wrong,” he settled on saying. When Padmé did not quite appear satisfied with that, he added hastily yet anxiously, “It was your heart, Senator.”

“My heart?”

“Your heart,” he nodded, as he swallowed at that lump again. “It was... fast.”

Padmé’s face flushed— much as Anakin’s had at the thought of what he couldn’t see through the water. Yes, she thought... her heart had been beating rather quickly just before he’d entered the room.

It was her turn to stammer. “I— yes. I-I didn’t mean— I mean, I didn’t—” 

She interrupted herself with a sigh, and almost seemed to resign herself to rising back out of the water, until its surface was once again level with the centre of her chest. Her breasts, at least, were still hidden this way— although only barely. Self-concealment was an effort she no longer felt she could make quite so valiantly in addition to that of interacting with Ani under these circumstances.

She eventually managed to come out with, “I had no intention of alarming you,” however, it sounded breathless; distracted— not at all as she would have liked.

...There it was again.

“Your heart,” repeated Anakin. Concern washed over his face; he asked her, “Are you ill, Senator? I—” 

She cut him off as gently as she could, “No, Ani.” She studied his face; he certainly was beautiful... and genuine as well, in a way she had never known anyone else to be. “I’m not sick.”

Confused once more, Anakin started, “Then what...?”

With a deep breath, Padmé admitted, “I was... thinking. That’s all.”

For a reason he couldn’t discern— and with a near-tangible surge of boldness— Anakin leaned back down, drawing very close to the washbasin. 

“Thinking about what?” He spoke his question quietly; after all, he was near enough to her now that he didn’t have to raise his voice above a whisper for her to hear him clearly. He couldn’t imagine what sort of thought would have been able to make the former Queen’s heart leap and race quite the way he’d felt it do; he wanted very much for her to tell him.

He was so close to her that she could feel the warmth of his breath; hear it catch in his throat as he questioned her. His appearance was elegant beyond adequate description, and he radiated passion; almost to the point of scaring her. More than that, though, she was enraptured— fascinated. Padmé Amidala had never felt quite so conflicted or baffled as she had since once again meeting her little blonde boy from Tatooine.

...Of course, he was training to be a Jedi, now.

With unintentional honesty, and more than a bit of fear, she returned his stare intently. “I was thinking about _you_ , Ani.” She spoke as quietly to him as he’d spoken to her; again, their closeness did not necessitate an increase in volume.

Anakin’s lips turned upward; formed a shy and baffled smile as he requested confirmation, “Me?” Then, “What about me?” He dropped to his knees after that so he was crouched beside the basin, head perfectly level with Padmé’s. He remained very close; continued to study her. His eyes wandered between her face and the surface of the water.

She didn’t want to tell him, really, but she’d already started to.

Her voice wavered as she confessed, “Our kiss, Anakin.”

“What?”

“I was thinking about our kiss.”

“...The one we should never have shared,” he murmured, after playing the moment over in his mind. It wasn’t a question, but a statement; a statement he followed with, “The one we shared anyway.”

Another pause, and then the Senator finally broke their gaze; looked down at the water. She shifted as she did so, which caused ripples to form on the surface around her. 

“I’m sorry, Ani,” she whispered, without peering back up.

“Padmé,” he said unsteadily, because he was no longer used to calling her by her name; he hadn’t done so conversationally since he was small, and now— for myriad reasons— it no longer felt appropriate.

Of course, it did feel _right._

“I think you can leave,” she told him then, in spite of the way they both felt. She added for his benefit, “I’m safe, now,” although she hardly felt safe— from Anakin’s feelings, or her own.

He began to open his mouth; perhaps to protest, but something inside of him caused him to think better of it, right then. As if coming out of a trance, he stood; placed his hand on the hilt of his blade, because having it there made _him_ feel safe... even when the sense of security it offered was false.

After examining the tiny waves in the water around the Senator— and ceasing his own bottom lip’s quivering at the dejection which had now almost entirely replaced his adrenaline— Anakin nodded.

“Should I remove the sugar?” he asked, in a tone which graciously masked the sad, clamouring bedlam in his mind.

Because she knew that Anakin would be especially devastated to leave the room having accomplished nothing, she conceded, “Yes— yes, you can take the jar,” as she raised a hand from the water so that she could motion to it.

Once he had stared briefly (but still for far too long) at the Senator’s slender and unblemished arm as it emerged— dripping— from under the water, her young guard nodded, and bent down to finally pick it up.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your bath,” he said prior to leaving, as he looked down at her. The sugar jar rested awkwardly in his hands; it looked too delicate and elaborate for somebody like him to be holding. To see him grasp it was to be instinctively fearful that it might break, so obvious were his strength and inner agitation.

For all of her own trepidation, Padmé wished he would not go; however, she had no choice but to send him away: Jedi Knights did not kiss Senators (nor did they watch them bathe), and a Jedi Knight was what Anakin was destined to be. 

She watched him leave, and after he had gone, she rose from the basin and began to dry herself as she would have after any other bath. While she did, she tried her very best not to think of Anakin; of his smile, of the innocence she perceived in him, or of that kiss she should never have let him take from her.

If she did, her heart would race... and she knew, now, that if her heart raced, it would make him come running to her.

Neither of them, she was certain, could afford to let that happen again.


End file.
